


The Light of Nowhere

by Hold_en



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Relationships, F/M, Power Dynamics, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2019-07-01 19:28:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15780570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: "She was just a girl."So begins the eventual trial of Severus Snape; murderer, savior, villain, hero, and the girl that was bound to him.***NOTE: This story is going to be darker than my other stuff. I'm trying some new stuff out :)  It's a very different take on the marriage law challenge and I hope you'll enjoy it.





	1. The Start

“What could we possibly use this for?” Harry muttered under his breath, his attention having obviously waned.  

It was nearing the end of November in their sixth year at Hogwarts and Harry was having a harder and harder time focusing on the mundane realities of classes when there was Voldemort out in the world. How was he to sit here and pretend like any of this actually mattered? How was he supposed to focus on Professor Vector at the front of the class giving an in depth study of the Agrippan method of finding the strengths and weaknesses in a person when they could all be thrust into a wizarding war at any moment?

“Arithmancy is actually quite useful,” Hermione retorted in a hushed tone that suggested condemnation rather than observation. Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly at his friend before going back to his parchment and scribbling absently. He had to at least seem busy, or Professor Vector would be on him immediately. While she may not openly favor certain students like a certain greasy git, she could still be unpleasant if crossed.

His gaze stole to the left of the room where a pale and peaked looking Draco Malfoy sat, flanked by his trusty goons Goyle and Crabbe. Harry had dedicated this entire year to following that ferret-face; ever since he’d overheard him at _Borgin and Burkes_ demanding a certain item be fixed. As if feeling he were being watched, Draco glanced over his right shoulder and scowled at Harry. 

“Mister Malfoy, is there something fascinating at the back of the room?” Professor Vector said lightly, her light eyes flinty as she drew over to the boy.

“No, Professor,” Draco replied through gritted teeth.

“Then I suggest you face the front,” Professor Vector replied, strolling through the rows of students and continuing her lesson, passionately explaining that one could use an individual’s birthday to derive their character number. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a small smirk of approval slip over her features before it was gone again. Draco Malfoy deserved everything he got as far as she was concerned.

Hermione glanced to the other side of her where Ron was trying – and failing – to remain awake. He balanced his jaw on his fist, his eyes dropping a moment before shuttering awake. She sighed deeply, her eyes taking in his pale and freckled face.

“Lavender keeping you up late?” she whispered tightly, trying her best not to seem jealous. Even though she was – desperately jealous in fact – not that he’d even realized. He was too enamored with the silly chit to even notice that Hermione had grown colder to him, more reserved. 

“She’s bloody exhausting,” Ron admitted quietly as Professor Vector pointed to something on the board. “She wants us to go to that _Puddifoot_ tea shop for a date next Hogsmeade weekend. Does she think I’m made of galleons?”

Hermione was about to reply when Professor Vector suddenly clapped her hands for their attention – a tactic she’d used since they were in first year – it didn’t matter that they were overover seven and well into their sixth year. But Hermione liked her – unlike Trelawney, Septima Vector was a smart, encouraging teacher. She always answered Hermione’s questions with patience and encouraged the girl to speak up in the class when she knew the answer.

 As a result, Hermione found she didn’t need to prove herself as much – her hand raised often, but she also let the other students have a chance. Unlike in Snape’s Defense class where she felt so continually downtrodden that she thrust her hand into the air every time he breathed the hint of a question.

“ _Students_ ,” Professor Vector said in that light Irish lilt of hers. “Using the methods I have just gone through, you will calculate your Character number, your Heart Number and your Social number. When you have done so you will find the traits that correspond to those numbers. For your homework you will write two feet of parchment on your findings and the parallels you see with your own life. If you disagree with your findings- explain why. But be compelling for the numbers are rarely wrong.”

With that she gave a small smile and went to her desk, starting to write something into her large ledger hurriedly. There was a small din in the classroom as the students began to write and calculate their scores. Harry wrote slowly, for math had never been his strong suit, irritated that Hermione seemed to be sailing by.

“What’s a heart number?” Ron mumbled irritably, obviously having been startled by Vector’s loud talking.

“Were you even listening?” Hermione said with a groan as she pulled out her parchment. “The Heart number is your inner life. Your Character number is your general personality. Your Social is your outer personality.”

“Wouldn’t my character and my social be the same?” Ron challenged. “I’m the same on the inside as out.”

Hermione said nothing, choosing to divert her attention back to the board where she quickly calculated that for today’s lesson she was a character of 4, a heart of 4 and a social of 9. She smiled at this concrete result, having always favored this class because unlike Trelawney’s simpering account of how to fortell the future, this was a scientific, measurable way of doing it.  She glanced over at the textbook, reading:

_Like a table that rests solidly on four legs, four indicates stability and firmness. Fours enjoy hard work. They are practical, reliable and down to earth; they prefer logic and reason to flights of fancy. They are good at organization and getting things done. Like the cycle of the four seasons, they are also predictable. They can be stubborn, suspicious, overly practical and prone to angry outbursts. The conflicts possible in "two" are doubled in four._

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at that – she had to admit that this was pretty accurate! She glanced to her other number – a nine- and looked back to the textbook.

_Represents completion and achievement to the fullest degree (as it is the complete number, three, expressed three times). Nines dedicate themselves to service, often as teachers, scientists, and humanitarians. Strongly determined, they work tirelessly and are an inspiration to others. However, they can also be arrogant and conceited when things don't go their way._

While Hermione could agree that she saw a large part of herself in this – hadn’t she always wanted to dedicate herself to humanitarian work after Hogwarts? – she was surprised by the arrogant piece. Was she arrogant? Conceited? No, that sounded like someone else entirely.

She glanced over to Malfoy, seeing him scribble slowly. She wondered if he was even doing the work; she’d heard him complaining of Dumbledore earlier, saying that the man wasn’t fit to teach. No, Hermione Granger wasn’t arrogant – but Draco Malfoy sure was.

 Soon the bell rung, indicating the end of the class. Ron was grumbling about the homework and Harry was looking distractedly at Draco before pulling his books into his arms. Hermione shot him a concerned look, suddenly viewing the fatigue on her friend’s face.

“You alright Harry?” she asked gently touching his shoulder. He gave her a warm smile before nodding.

“Just tired is all.”

“More lessons with Dumbledore?” Hermione observed. The boy nodded, about to say more when a snide voice sounded out from behind them.

“Enjoy staring at me, Potty?” Draco sneered as Goyle and Crabbe gave low chuckles of approval at their gang leader.

“Not staring,” Harry replied evenly for years of Draco’s mockery had left him indifferent. “Just watching.”

“A voyeur then?” Draco replied with a sharp rasp of a laugh. “Best trying your hand at _cottaging_ then, Potter. I’m not interested.”

With that, the three Slytherin’s walked off laughing darkly to one another and leaving the Hermione and the boys red faced with embarrassment and anger.

“Why didn’t you tell him off, Harry?” Ron demanded, irritated at his friend’s lack of reply.

“I don’t have time for detention,” Harry replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “Best not to start in with Malfoy.”

To Hermione he suddenly looked a decade older than seventeen, his green eyes stark against the blur-grey of his under eye bags. She wondered if she should brew him something to help him sleep. Although, she had to admit, Harry was doing better at Potions than even she was this year. Something that bothered her greatly, though she’d never admit it.

“C’mon,” Hermione said as she observed the time and gathered her books into her arms. “We have defense next and we’d best hurry because I heard Snape’s in a right foul mood today.”

 ****************

“ _Here he comes_ ,” whispered an anxious voice as the classroom door slammed behind him. Snape swept into the Defense Classroom, looking more and more like an overgrown bat than usual with his robes billowing dramatically behind him as he walked.

His left leg ached him and he was dying for some rest. Of course, this was not to be. Instead he glided as smoothly as he could manage over to the projector. The students faced the front of the class, not wishing to make eye contact with the man behind them.

The rumor at lunch was that he had screamed at a fourth year this morning for not paying attention in class and the boy had been so upset he’d vomited all over the floor in fear.

Of course this wasn’t close to what happened. The boy hadn’t been watching where he was going when attempting the hex reflection and backed right into the professor, distracted by another student. He’d knocked his foot quite harshly into the Professor’s left leg, re-opening a healing wound and causing Snape to give a sharp yelp of pain as he pulled back like a wounded animal.

This of course turned into a shout that the idiotic boy needed to watch where he was stepping. Out of fear for suffering the wrath of Severus Snape, the boy had hiccups the rest of class until Snape ordered him out, citing that he didn’t want to sit through the ‘cacophony of noise’  the boy was making.  Not before taking fifty house points of course.

The only benefit came from the false rumors that had run rampant about the situation, was that it had resulted in all classes to be quiet and well behaved.  No whispering, no note passing. This class of sixth years was no different. They sat in their seats, looking ahead and waiting for the lesson to start. The class was silent under his watchful gaze and he tapped the projector firmly.

“We will be studying wandless hexes,” Snape said quietly, his entire body screaming for reprieve, his left leg throbbing. “A bit of background before we begin- wandless magic can be quite volatile and difficult to perform, so unlike in potions, when I tell you to pay attention in these lessons you will _do so_.”

He felt as the students tensed up every moment he swept stiffly through the rows. It was almost fun to see the way they grew anxious around him. He glanced over to the trio he despised the most. Weasley looked ready to faint, Potter was fixing him with an unreadable expression and Granger was hurriedly taking notes like the desperate student she was. He could barely contain his irritation every time the three of them arrived.

“There will be no giggling or distracting one another, am I clear?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Learning this skill may one day save your life. So instead of daydreaming about Quidditch I suggest you pay attention.”

At this he went into a long background of wordless spells, indicating that there would be much preparation before they actually got to do it. This caused Harry and Ron great consternation as they had already been working on such a thing when they began Dumbledore’s Army. Hermione however was excited to learn more about it.

“You will copy the following notes from the board,” Snape said, tapping the projector off and using his wand to pull a chalkboard to the forefront of the classroom. “And for your assignment you will create a wandless spell of your own creation. Be creative, but for Merlin’s sake don’t be dunderheads and try them outside of this classroom.”

Snape sat back at his desk, watching as twenty heads bent over their desks, writing quickly; the only sound in the room the echo of their quills scratching against the parchment. It was a sound that Severus normally loved, but today it was irritating him to no end. Everything was causing him irritation and he attributed that to the extreme pain he was in today.

The Dark Lord had been most unimpressed with the delivery of news the previous night.

_Severus had arrived at Malfoy Manor, surprised to see Voldemort sitting by himself at the end of the long table. Nagini was nowhere to be seen and for some reason, this made Snape’s blood run cold. This was to be punishment – something Severus was rarely involved in. He was always a favored Death Eater, and_

_“My Lord.”_

_“Severus,” Voldemort had said, glancing at the bowing man before indicating the tall man should take a seat beside him. He did so, not surprised at all when he felt himself being magically bound to the chair. He tried not to look upset, instead giving Voldemort a confused look. The Dark Lord often enjoyed punishing Severus with the very spells he had created and he wondered what he may be in for this evening._

_“You are one of my most loyal followers Severus,” Voldemort had said with what he assumed was a grin. “But your information as of late has been, shall we say, less than useful.”_

_“My Lord?”_

_“You claimed there would be no way to break into the castle,” Voldemort’s ruby eyes had grown harder then. “Yet Draco tells me of a way. A way that a powerful wizard such as yourself should have come to me with years ago.”_

_“What way, My Lord?”_

_“That is between the boy and I… for now,” Voldemort had teased.  “You will know soon enough.”_

_“I think I should be made aware,” Severus had said with a confidence he hadn’t possessed at that moment. “How else will I be able to assist?”_

_Unfortunately the false confidence he had been trying to exude was deemed arrogance and too soon Voldemort had stood, curling a finger and beckoning Nagini toward them. Snape cast a sidelong glance at the slithering beast approaching from the shadows before his attention was drawn back to Voldemort._

_“You seem to forget on whose generosity you continue to thrive,” Voldemort had said in a voice that reminded Snape of drying leaves. “I shall leave you a reminder.”_

_With that Nagini had lunged her great head and sunk her sharp fangs into Severus’ lower left. He could feel as the sharp teeth pierced the fabric of his trousers before sliding with a heavy sting into the meat of his left calf._

_Within seconds the poison did its trick, relieving Snape of all and all power over his body. He groaned in pain, trying his best to keep his wits about him.  His head began to sink into his chest, but not before Voldemort’s reptilian face swam into view inches from Snape’s head._

_“You would be wise to recall that I am never to be questioned,” Voldemort whispered before he stopped the poison from spreading.  Immediately Snape could feel his body rejuvenating, his blood pumping furiously and taking out the toxins. Despite the anger he had for the man, Snape was so thankful for the release of pain he could sob._

_“I give pain, but I also take it away,” Voldemort had said, releasing the tall professor from his binding spell. “Remember that.”_

_“I will. Thank you, my Lord,” Snape had said through gritted teeth before disapparating._

However Snape’s left calf still burned and ached and throbbed. It would for several days if his estimation was correct. Despite a very powerful pain relieving potion, he knew that the two deep holes would remain; forever reminding him of what happened when the Dark Lord was displeased.

Snape felt his calf throb as if it were happening all over again.  None of the students were looking to him and so he gently touched the wrapping around his left leg through his trousers. He winced, feeling as the wound stung against the gentle intrusion. He pulled his hand back sharply, idly thinking about a salve that would work to dull the pain.

At that moment he felt a pair of dark eyes on him and he snapped his gaze up to see the insufferable know-it-all of Gryffindor fixing him with a look of concern. He felt the bile rise in the back of his throat this sycophantic gesture. How long had she been watching him?

“What are you staring at, Granger?” he demanded, startling her. He could see her back hunch, her eyes suddenly fixed upon her parchment. Her hair fell over her shoulder and he knew the tactic well – trying to hide behind it.

“Nothing sir,” she offered quietly as she wrote hurriedly.

“Are you sure?” he said cruelly from his desk. “Are you struggling with the devising of a _creative_ wandless spell, Miss Granger? I know it must be a true _challenge_ for you given that you can’t simply regurgitate your answer from a textbook.”

There was the gentle snicker from the Slytherin section of the classroom and Hermione ducked her head further, her entire face going red. Harry shot Snape a dark look that the professor wasn’t moved by in the slightest.

“What’s your problem?” Ron demanded, coming to Hermione’s defense and causing her to shoot him a small inscrutable look. “She didn’t even say anything.”

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” Snape bit back, his irritation evident. “For your _disrespect_ , Mister Weasley.”

Ron looked like he was about to say something more when Hermione gripped his arm tightly, her eyes shooting him a pleading look. Ron’s body deflated and he angrily went back to his assignment.  Hermione did the same, a strange look on her face.

Snape gave the Granger girl one last sneer before going back to his parchment. The last thing he needed was Hermione bloody Granger sticking her annoying nose in where it didn’t belong. It was if everything were a project for her to be graded on – he still recalled the disastrous S.P.E.W. formation and he felt his lip curl in disdain. She was far too muggle than witch sometimes.

His eyes glanced over to her wayward accomplice then, Potter and his green eyes. Snape winced as those eyes flitted through his memory. Potter looked distracted today, his writing lazy and unhurried. He seemed to be staring quite intently at the back of Draco’s head.

“Pay attention to your assignment, Potter.”

Harry started, glancing up to Snape at the head of the class and trying to hold back a disdainful glare.

The class worked on in silence for the rest of the hour and Snape found himself eagerly counting down the minutes. He would skip dinner in the Great Hall tonight – have dinner sent to his chambers, a glass of elf-made wine and then an early night. He felt the heavy weight of his tired eyes even more pronounced then and as the bell clanged he didn’t even look up to dismiss them.

He was about to stand himself when there was a pecking sound at the large window to his right. A large barn owl was waiting for him on the window ledge, a scroll in its talons. He opened the window, his inky hair rustling as the cold November air hit his face. He took the scroll into his hand, shutting the window firmly after the bird. He opened the scroll, scanning the short message and sighing deeply.  

_Tonight. 9pm in my chambers._

_-Albus_

Snape almost growled at that before crumpling the message and throwing it into the bin.

So much for having a lie in.

***************

Albus was already pacing inside when Severus arrived that evening, his focus on the thin man’s blackened hand. It made Severus wince every time he saw it. He wondered why the old man only glamoured it when he was outside the office. Surely it would make more sense to have it continually glamoured?

Or was he doing it to remind Snape of the situation that they were in? A visual reminder that time was running out?  If that were the case, he needn’t have bothered. Snape was aware of their dwindling time every moment he opened his eyes in the morning, both disappointed he was alive and relieved for he was doing right by Lily.

“Take a seat,” Albus said pointing to a chair. Normally Severus would have insisted on standing, but today was a particularly exhausting day and he fell into the plush armchair almost thankful for the invitation. He folded his hands on his lap politely, inclining his head in Albus’ direction, speaking languidly as if to belay the tension he felt everywhere in his body.

“You wished to see me, Headmaster.”

“I did,” Albus said with a pursing of his wrinkled lips. “As you yourself have attested to in previous meetings, the Dark Lord and his followers are moving forward in their plans for overtaking the castle. I would assume they’d put this plan into action by the end of summer at the latest?”

“That’s what I’ve gathered,” Severus answered truthfully.

“I worry that as the war draws near we are still mightily unprepared,” Albus said with a grimace. “Despite all the work and extra lessons we’ve put in with Harry, we still need to decide upon our next course of action.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Snape offered his eyes at half mast as he watched the man pace in the same office before him.

“We need to decide what will happen when I’m gone,” Albus continued, referring to the unbreakable vow. “You’ll have no other way of contacting Harry. He won’t trust you, should you need to kill me. In fact, no one will trust you. To everyone on the Light you’ll be a monster.”

“So quite similar to the opinions they have of me now,” Severus replied sardonically.  Albus continued on as if he hadn’t heard him. He wasn’t in the mood for the boy’s rather childish sulking behavior.

“When I’m gone you’ll need some way of maintaining contact with Harry. You’ll be at a disadvantage for keeping him safe of course because he’ll keep everything from you. But you know better than I that you’re his best chance at survival.”

Snape said nothing, continuing to watch the older man from behind cold, glittering eyes.

“However without the continual sharing of knowledge, the both of you shall be in a bind that could be avoided.  Obviously we cannot bring the boy into the fold, as we’ve established the Dark Lord can move within his mind with ease. It’s too dangerous for him to know anything of our plans.”

“Obviously.”

“He needs to think you a villain to get Voldemort’s entire trust,” Albus continued without pause. “You won’t be trusted by any of the staff once I’m gone, for they too are too vulnerable to the Dark Lord’s Legilimens ability.”

“Then what do you suggest, Albus?” Snape sighed heavily, wishing he were in his bed. His calf was throbbing. “A tracking spell for the boy?”

“No,” Albus frowned deeply.  “You _know_ that won’t work, Severus. Tracking the boy won’t be enough – you need to know what his next moves will be. He needs to know what to expect _here_. Honestly Severus, I wonder why you’re making this harder on me than it needs to be.”

“Harder on _you_?” Snape snapped, his dark eyes fathomless. “And what do you suppose this has been like for me these past years, Albus? Working for both the Dark and the Light has not been a great joy in my life, I assure you.”

Albus paused, his light eyes suddenly locked on Snape’s face in a way that made Severus feel like he were a first-year being scolded.

“You made your choice Severus,” Albus said quietly.

Snape said nothing, not needing to be reminded of the oath he’d sworn;  his allegiance, his promise that he would protect the boy. The final thing he could do in Lily’s memory. But did the brat have to look so much like James? That same overly confident demeanor, the same strutting way of stride. But Lily’s eyes, he always remembered. Precious Lily’s green eyes that stared back at him from inside that arrogant face. Those eyes which reminded him daily why he was fighting like this.

“And so we still need a way of keeping information passing from Harry to you after I’m gone,” Albus continued, raising his blackened hand without thinking. “A way to keep close to the boy without rousing too much suspicion. A plan that we can enact as soon as possible, should Voldemort’s attack come earlier.”

Snape crossed his arms, unable to think of a reasonable way of doing so that wouldn’t have Voldmort’s suspicion roused. Even his keen mind couldn’t arrive at a logical conclusion and so he gave Albus an inscrutable look before wearily raising a palm in deference.

“And you’ve such a plan, Albus?”

 Albus took a seat across from him, his face suddenly looking more haggard than Severus ever remembered.

“I have,” said Albus with a grim countenance. “And I’m sure you won’t like it.”


	2. Just a Girl

 

“She was just a girl, and you two adult men thought that this was the best way to save the Wizarding World from the Dark Lord? Thrust a seventeen year old girl into a hasty marriage to her professor?” Naya Adalat, barrister and all around pain in the arse sat before Judge and the opposing council, her light eyes flashing with barely concealed anger.

“Almost eighteen. And it worked, did it not?”  Benjiro Hitoshi, barrister to those who were uniquely challenged stood his ground across the table, glancing at his client Severus Snape before looking back to the aged witch in front of him.  “We’ve all come out alive and for the better, have we not thanks to this wizard?”

 “That remains to be seen,” Naya replied viciously. “While the Dark Lord is decidedly gone, the ramifications of your client’s actions will forever be a mark on my client’s life.”

Wizengamot hearings were normally perfunctory, to the point and involved only the individuals affected.  However this hearing was nearing its second hour and in the chambers were the Judge Merridan, Naya Adalt, Benjiro Hitoshi and Severus Snape. Severus sat beside Benjiro with his hands folded politely on the desk, his eyes downcast and his entire body rigid. The two barristers continued to speak over him and he allowed it, his entire body and mind exhausted.

 “My client did what was best for the fate of our world,” Benjiro said beside Severus, dressed in his best court robes and speaking proudly. “He had no choice but to follow the stipulations put forth by Albus Dumbledore himself.”

“Based on a conversation that happened between your client and the now deceased Headmaster?” Naya scoffed openly, giving the Judge a pointed roll of her eyes before glancing back at her opposition. “A conversation that we have no actual proof took place.”

“You saw the memory yourself in the Pensieve.”

“And from my records, your client, Severus Snape, is a skilled Occlumens and Legilimens,” Naya replied evenly, bringing forth a file from her briefcase. “You yourself admitted into evidence that your client often had to alter and cloud memories in order to work with the Dark Lord as well as the Light, is that correct?”

“It is,” Benjiro replied tersely, knowing where this was going. “In order to work as a double agent my client needed to employ vast amounts of deception against the Dark Lord.”

 “Of course, and with such a talent for subterfuge how we are to determine if these memories of his are real or a fabrication he’s made to weasel himself out of Azkaban?”

At the mention of Azkaban, Severus winced ever so slightly.  Naya observed this with supressed glee.

“My client has been most forthcoming,” said Benjiro, motioning to Severus with his head. “He has submitted _all_ his memories for scrutiny, from his first meeting to the Dark Lord up until he willingly accepted death by the fang of the basilisk in order to protect Harry Potter himself.”

“Not all memories,” Naya replied with a grimace, shooting Severus a dark look. “Not the ones involving my client.”

“I didn’t share them because she asked me not to,” Severus asked quietly, speaking for the first time since he’d been brought into the room for the hearing.  “I’m honoring her request.”

 “How noble,” Naya said with a flat tone.  Severus raised an eyebrow in displeasure, wanting to say something to the shrew-faced woman but decided against it. Instead he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and giving off a long-suffering sigh.

“You have the testimony of Harry Potter himself,” Benjiro said, pushing the document with Harry’s official statement and signature across the table for her to view. “Along with several Hogwarts staff who insist the man is innocent.”

“Based on second-hand information,” Naya offered, scanning the parchment quickly. “Based on memories that this man likely fabricated when he knew he was on the losing side of the war.”

“The memories were given due to his belief that he was _dying_.”

Severus’ mind flew from the room a moment, suddenly on the ground of the shrieking shack as his blood seeped out from his torn neck and dripped onto the creaking floor. He blinked rapidly, needing to be away from that moment immediately, even if it meant facing the harsh reality that he was in a wizarding hearing for a crime which he did not commit.  

“I find it convenient that a boy who has openly hated you since his first year would suddenly rush to your client’s aid. Would actually view the memories of his enemy and then suddenly believe everything he viewed in the Pensieve.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Dark magic.”

At this all the male gazes’ drew to Naya who sat smugly behind the table.

“You’re making a very audacious claim,” Judge Merridan said in a rough whisper. “I would advise you to reconsidering what you’ve suggested.”

“By the time we take this to trial, I will have my proof your honor,” Naya said determinedly. “And Miss Granger will have her greatly deserved justice.”

A few more minutes of speaking between the three of them ended when the judge rubbed his aged temples in fatigue. Judge Merridan looked to the two barristers before tapping his wand to indicate that the Hearing was over.

“The trial of Severus Snape vs Hermione Granger will begin a week from Monday,”


	3. The Offer

“ _Married_?”

Hermione sat across from Albus in his office, her dark eyes large and confused. She had been called into his office after supper. She had come in, sat across from him and listened to him talk for fifteen minutes straight. And now, here she was mulling his bizarre suggestion over and trying to think clear-headed.

“Yes,” Albus nodded, his wizened face grim. “After much deliberation Miss Granger, this seems the best way to ensure consistent communication between Harry and Professor Snape whatever may come. With you as an intercessory for them the line of communication would always be open.”

“Why can’t I just pass along information as Harry’s friend?” Hermione inquired in a desperate tone. “Why do I need to be _married_ to Professor Snape?”

There. It was out in the open. She’d actually said the words.

_Married._

To Professor Snape.

Ex Death eater. Double Agent. Greasy Git.

 “Marriage lends itself to certain intimacies,” Albus said without thinking. When he saw the girl’s stricken expression he realized he hadn’t explained himself properly and he waved his hands in the air as if erasing his previous sentence.

 “What I mean is, as his wife you are privy to more delicate information. You will be considered part of his inner circle. It would give you potential legitimacy in the eyes of Voldemort.”

Hermione paused, trying not to look to horrified with what was being suggested. This was after all a meeting of Order-like proportions. It was a huge ask and a part of her was honored that Albus considered her up for it. The other part of her wanted to run and hide.

“But what about _you_?” Hermione asked indignant. “ _You_ can always just pass along information to Harry or the professor can’t you? I don’t understand why I have to _marry_ Professor Snape!”

The more she said married and Professor Snape in the same sentence the more she wanted to rush to the loo and reintroduce herself to her pudding.

Yes, she’d always respected his intelligence and his duty to the order. However she also disliked him on many levels; the mockery of her teeth, his plain preference for Slytherin students, his disapproval of her desire to learn.  

He had always been this neutral figure in her mind – not pleasant but nothing that really took up much time in her thoughts. She always had something more pressing to fret about. A dour professor who deducted points as fast as Luna went off on bizarre tangents wasn’t really in the forefront of her mind.

But now – now the stark reality of a life with a constant Snape  figure were causing her to lose her breath. The image of Professor Snape slipping a ring onto her digit and promising eternal love made her stomach drop painfully. The overly-large nose and inky eyes invaded her mind and she felt her lips setting into a firm line.  

 “There may be a time that I am… indisposed,” Albus winced as he said the last word; as if it physically pained him.

“But sir I’m still a student,” Hermione insisted, hoping that somehow this reminder of her youth and future would change the man’s mind.

“I am well aware,” Albus said with a torn look on his face. He paused a moment, standing and then came to sit at the seat next to her, creaking as he lowered himself until they were eye-to-eye.

 “I know that what I ask of you is truly overwhelming. Unfair even. And if I could think of any alternative that wouldn’t put anyone from the Order in danger I would do so in a heartbeat. But this is a time of war, Miss Granger. And in a time of war sacrifices need to be made.”

Sacrifice.

Hermione thought to Harry then, her dear friend who seemed to be perpetually sacrificing. His parents, his home, and as Hermione had a sinking suspicion – later his life. But still – all of this hinged upon a very dubious character.

“But how much can we actually trust Professor Snape?” Hermione implored. She knew she sounded desperate, but the idea of actually marrying the man was causing her to break out into anxious hives. “He’s a DeathEater.”

“Ex.”

“Ex Deatheater,” Hermione said quickly. “But if you’re indisposed who’s to say that Snape won’t do something terrible? How do we know he’s not just hedging his bets?”

Albus took one of Hermione’s shaking hands in his own, patting of softly. She looked into bright blue eyes, seeing the calm and perhaps even some pity behind them.

“I need you to trust me,” Albus said, his voice steady. “I would never ask this of you if I didn’t think it was worth it.”

Any other wizard would have to convince her with charts and examples and details. But looking into Albus’ eyes she knew that what he said was true.  And while she wasn’t completely on board with the idea as of yet, she felt herself opening to the idea.

Slightly.

As a muggle she wasn’t completely familiar with wizarding customs like marriage and annulments. She wondered how long she would have to put on this charade. Imagine being married to Snape forever! All ideas of a life with Ron suddenly scrubbed from her future? It was patently unfair.

“Do wizards divorce?”

“It is uncommon, but it is done,” Albus said with a nod of his head. “Once the war is over, Miss Granger you would of course divorce.”

Hermione nodded, frowning a bit. The thought of being divorced was a strange thought to her. She didn’t know many friends with divorced parents. The thought that she would be divorcee all before she turned twenty caused her to deflate. Aside from that, there was the very real aspect of being Professor Snape’s _wife_. A horrifying and disgusting thought it she was honest.

“Would I have to _live_ with him?” Her voice was quiet.

“I’m afraid so,” Albus said. “You’d have to appear married to everyone, staff and student alike. There are many spies, Miss Granger. Not just looking to you but to Professor Snape as well. If there is even a whiff of falsehood you put Professor Snape in great danger.”

Hermione paused at this, for a moment feeling a fleeting moment of pity for the horrendous man. Imagine being spied upon by both sides for how many years? She couldn’t comprehend it. It would be as if Rita Skeeter were following you all hours of the day. The thought made her want to shudder. But was that worth giving up her youth? Her first marriage? Wouldn’t it look a bit bizarre?

“You wouldn’t be parading around Hogwarts if that’s what you’re worried about,” Albus quickly commented. “Professor Snape is a man who enjoys his privacy, especially when it comes to his personal life. You would simply need to act the part."

Act the part of devoted wife to Severus Snape? The thought made her want to laugh if it weren't for the circumstances.  

 “I’m supposed to just suddenly be married to him? Won’t Ron and Harry find that a bit suspicious? Won’t my professors find it a bit distasteful?”

“You’re the cleverest witch of your age, Miss Granger. I’m sure a tale could be devised. If not by the Gryffindor Prefect then surely by the girl who stole into Professor Snape’s stores and brewed a perfect Polyjuice potion in her second year.”

Hermione felt her cheeks and neck redden at what he was insinuating. She looked to her hands, playing nervously about in her lap. She licked her dry lips anxiously.

“If it comes as any consolation Miss Granger you won’t be going at this by yourself. As long as I am able I am here to help you. And Professor Snape has just as much to lose as you.”

For a moment that humanized him. It was true – if Hermione spoilt their façade it would be a bother to her and her life. If Snape was found out however? It would likely mean his life.  

“When would we be married?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Where?”

“We’ll find a suitable place. All the arrangements will be made. I know how much your studies matter to you and I assure you that you will not be taken away from them for long.”

Hermione could have laughed at that comment. Her studies? As if she cared about that at all anymore!

She thought a few moments in silence with Albus regarding her puzzled face. Finally as if she had come to some inner agreement with her own mind she sat back, looking to the Headmaster.

“Even if I agreed to this I don’t think Professor Snape would,” Hermione said honestly.

“He already has.”

“You’ve already talked to him about this?” Hermione couldn’t believe it.

“I have,” Albus said with a nod.

“He said yes?”

Despite the tension in the room Albus gave a whisper of a smile at the girl’s incredulous face. “He has agreed to it under the same terms as you, Miss Granger. Immediate separation upon the end of the war.  He is in agreement that this is what’s best in our defeat against the Dark Lord.”

Hermione nodded, rather stunned. She had rather hoped that Snape would be the one to back out of this. But of course he wouldn’t – if he was as wonderful as Dumbledore insinuated he was then of course he would give up everything to aid them.

“Not only that,” Albus said standing and moving behind his desk once more. “But apparently Voldemort is of the belief that this is a wise plan as well.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at this. “He is?”

“Much as we believe that having you as a link between Harry and Snape is in our best interest, the Dark Lord also believes that having Harry Potter’s devoted friend under Snape’s thumb will aid their advancement in the war.”

Hermione let this comment digest a moment before she rose on shaky legs. The room felt very small and very much lacking in air.

“Of course you need some time to think about this,” Albus said with a firm shake of his head. “And I thank you very much for consideri-“

“No,” Hermione interrupted, gathering her school books to her chest. Albus stared up at her from his chair, looking suddenly so small and fragile. Had he always looked like this?

“No.”

She could see the defeat clearly written in his pale blue eyes as he repeated her response. She could see a nervous tic in one of his cheeks and she immediately felt guilty for confusing him.

“No, what I mean is that no, I don’t need time to think it over,” Hermione responded, giving him a wan smile. Dumbledore immediately brightened, his eyes almost glowing with renewed interest. He almost leapt from his chair to capture her hand in his.

“You mean?”

“I’ll do it,” she repeated, this time more firmly before taking her hand back. She heard the next words she spoke aloud but could barely believe them herself.  “I’ll marry Professor Snape.”


	4. The Barrister

"We need to go over the notes from your wedding again," Benjiro said with a tired sigh back in his office a day after the meeting with Merridan and Adalat. "I know it's tedious, but I need to make sure that we're prepared for Monday. Your wedding and wedding night are going to be of great interest for the jury."

"Indeed."

Severus stood by the large window, looking at the lake in the distance. He was currently under house arrest in spinners end, only permitted three additional places - Benjiro's office, the high Court, and St Mungo's. He enjoyed Benjiro's (Ben, to his clients) office greatly for the view and for the wine Ben always had on hand. 

Since the fall of Voldemort he hadn't left home much, and now under direct summons he hadn't the luxury of going out for the odd drink.

"Yes," Ben insisted, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "They're going to be looking for any gap in your story. With your history as a Death Eater the jury will already be against you."

Snape turned from the window a moment, his eyes cloudy. "And my double agency? Almost losing my life to that damned snake-"

"Won't compare to an innocent former student pointing the finger of blame at you."

Snape huffed at this, completely furious. No matter what he did he would always be seen as the enemy, the villain. What point was there in fighting it? 

"I want to hear your side of things," Ben urged. He rubbed at his eyes a moment as he spoke, the fatigue evident  He was more than a little tired these days, a client like Severus Snape was high profile and with that came a lot of publicity - good and bad.

Rita Skeeter had been sniffing around, trying to get him to spill any secrets he had (which he of course hadn't). He'd also been photographed more in the last month than in his entire life thanks to the meddling witch.

"I don't see how it will make a difference," Snape replied cooly. 

"We need to make sure this story is airtight," Ben replied, tapping his desk for emphasis. "You heard Naya today. She's going with the dark magic defense. If you're found guilty you'll get a nice juicy kiss from a Dementor-"

"-And you'll lose your winning streak," Snape interrupted deftly. "Don't make yourself out to be a martyr, Ben. It's beneath you."

"I took you on as a client because I believed you when you told me you were innocent," Ben said, taking a drag off his cigarette and ignoring the man's insinuation  "And I still believe that."

If Snape believed Ben's words he made no indication of it. He also made no attempt to move from his position at the window.

"Severus, she's going to attempt convince the jury that you used dark magic on the girl. Do you hear me? Do you understand how serious this is?"

"But it's simply untrue," Snape replied, his eyes still on the landscape out the window. How he longed to walk those rolling hills once more.

"I know that," Ben replied. "But you need to convince the rest of the wizarding world of that fact."

"They'll see my memories."

"Yes," Ben nodded, reaching for another cigarette from his desk. "But as we all know memories can be clouded by emotion. We need your verbal testimony just as much as your memories. Your side of things will be put up against miss Granger's to see if any holes exist."

Ben saw as Severus stiffened at the mention of the girl's name and found himself wondering. In all their time together Snape said very little about his soon-to-be-ex-wife aside from answering direct questions posed by Ben.

He did so like a robot recalling facts: direct and passionless.The only things he didn't share were certain memories that he cited the Granger woman deemed "private and sensitive."

""She'll be at the trial I assume?" His voice was soft and almost anxious sounding.

"She'll have to be to testify."

"I see."

Snape made his way over to the desk, eyeing the chair opposite Ben warily. Ben looked up the tall length of the man, noting the haunted look in his black eyes.

"Just know that Miss Granger is doing this exact thing with Naya as we speak. And unlike you, Severus, I doubt she's holding anything back."

He saw a small spark in the man's eyes then. It was a challenge.

"You need to tell me everything that happened that day and night," Ben said in a solemn tone. "Leave nothing out."

After a moment of seeming internal struggle, Snape lowered himself to the seat opposite Ben and fixed with his barrister with a tired look.

"Very well."


	5. The Wedding

“Hermione how wonderful to see you, please take a seat.”

Hermione moved into the grand office of Naya Adalat, wizarding barrister of the highest order. The best Hermione could find for the galleons she possessed. The older woman was put together, beautiful in her severity and with a reputation for being ruthless.

Hermione had met with the woman twice before to and had felt remarkably ill at ease both times. But she had reminded herself that she wasn’t there to make friends. She was there to see justice served.

The two women sat across from one another in the large office. Naya behind her desk and Hermione on a large and plush sofa across from her. Windows were everywhere, showcasing the dismal grey of the day. It suited Hermione’s mood and so she found herself enjoying the bleakness of the weather.

“How are you feeling these days?”

“Awful,” Hermione said with an awkward chuckle. “Everything has happened so fast. Voldemort’s downfall… now this. It feels it was just yesterday I was a student worrying about my O.W.L.’s.”

She would give anything for it to be as simple as it had been back then. Back before _… Him._

“I met with the opposing council yesterday,” Naya continued, her hands folded on her desk. “I think we’re in very good position.”

“You really think so?” Hermione was surprised to hear this. With Harry’s testimony being clouded by stories of Snape’s long buried love of his mother, Hermione had assumed that this would be a difficult case.

“I do,” Naya nodded confidently. “There are holes in the defendant’s story. Gaps that cannot or will not be explained. He also doesn’t seem that interested in defending himself.”

“He was there at the meeting?”  There was a ghost of a tremor in Hermione’s voice.

Naya was thinned lipped a moment, wondering if she should answer. She could see that her client was already high strung and she wondered if the confirmation would set her on edge further.

“Could I tempt you with some tea?” Naya gave Hermione a conciliatory smile that didn’t quite touch her lavender eyes. She motioned to the tea service that had obviously just been brought in. “Or biscuits perhaps?”

“No, thank you,” Hermione said shaking her head. “I’d rather get this over and done with if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course,” Naya said nodding emphatically. “I don’t want to distress you more than necessary. We’ll begin immediately.”

 With a snap of her manicured fingers, a large purple plume appeared at her shoulder. “I’ll be using a _Dicta-Quill_ to ensure accuracy of your statement. If that’s alright with you?”

“As long as it’s not a _Quick Quotes Quill_ , I’m fine with it.” Hermione offered a grim smile, her memory of Rita Skeeter and her horrible headlines flashing into her mind a moment.  Naya gave her a small smile and nod before motioning to the sheets of parchment on the table.

“Now Miss Granger,” Naya said firmly, her voice taking on an authoritative tone. “Please tell me everything you remember about your wedding day.”

***

Hermione was on her way to the library an hour before curfew when it happened. Dumbledore had come lurching down the corridor, trying his best to remain calm when he saw her.

“Miss Granger.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder to see the disheveled Headmaster and felt her stomach jump. It had been two weeks since their talk of her marrying Snape. She had almost been able to push it out of her mind, assuming it was an idea that the Order had simply abandoned.  Snape had been no different to her in classes or in general. Still sour, still rude and still oblivious to her unless she was waving her hand in the air.

“It’s time, Miss Granger.”

Hermione felt her head shaking in deference to what he was saying. “Right now? I’m not ready, I-“

“Time is of the essence,” Dumbledore insisted, his hand clenching painfully at his side. Hermione noticed the curl of his fist and the tremble along the knuckles. Her hand was immediately on his shoulder in concern.  

“Sir are you hurt? Is Vold- is he here?”

Dumbledore shook his head quickly. “No time to explain. We need to go to my office.”

Within minutes the two had burst into the office. Dumbledore strode in first to see Snape standing just inside the door. He was pacing back at forth, looking uncomfortable. When he heard Albus enter he gave the man an imploring look.

“You wished to see me?”

He seemed not to notice Hermione standing behind Dumbledore because when the two fully walked into the room Snape’s posture seemed to grow more rigid and a shadow of a grimace slipped over his features.

“I see.”

“We must be quick,” Albus explained, his entire countenance something of a frazzled victim. Hermione hated seeing the normally placid and calm man looking like this. It made her feel more ill at ease that Snape screaming.  “You know what we spoke of earlier, Severus?”

“Yes.”

“It’s true. All of it. I have proof.”

Hermione glanced over to see Snape’s jaw pulse as he grit his teeth together. She had no idea what the two were talking about, but she also had no desire to interrupt them. She knew that she had to bite her tongue.

“And when I feel he’s ready, Harry and I will be traveling to find one.”

Harry? Where was Harry going? Did he know? Could she ask him? Immediately she noticed as Snape’s fingers made a silent staccato against his thigh.

“I’ll go,” Snape insisted, his voice a firm murmur. “Just tell me where.”

“No,” Albus shook his head. “Your attentions will be needed here. With Miss Granger and the students.”

As if he were acknowledging her for the first time, Hermione felt as the dark wizard’s eyes slipped over her form in passing. She saw as he pressed his mouth in a line of displeasure.

“And so we come to the reason you’re both here,” Albus said in a tone of grim finality. “Severus, from what I can understand Tom has been pressuring you for the binding ceremony. When you came back wounded-“

“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” his tone was dry and crisp and Hermione could almost see the irritation slipping out from between his lips.

Wounded? When had Snape been wounded? Hermione glanced at the tall form of her Potions professor and found that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But then again how would she ever know? He was so buttoned up, so completely covered that he could be a burn victim under all those robes and she’d never know.

“You’ve both agreed to this marriage for the Order,” Albus continued, having the good grace to look a bit embarrassed as he spoke. “Your sacrifice will not be in vain.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Hermione noted the way Snape had seemed to withdraw back into himself. Gone was the concerned man and back was the dour professor with biting comments.

“Well, I suppose then there’s nothing more to say,” Albus said. He turned, quickly walking behind his desk and opening the drawer. The two stood in silence across from him, watching as he began scribbling something down on a piece of parchment before handing it to Severus along with a small box. “She knows to expect you.”

The wizard glanced at both before shoving them into his robes pocket. Severus nodded before turning to the girl expectantly. Hermione finally felt that she was able to speak without being reprimanded.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Snape said nothing more, instead choosing to stride from the office without a glance behind him. Hermione looked to Albus to see that the man was looking exasperatedly to the desk below. For a moment Hermione wanted to back out, to refuse. If this is how it was going to be at the start, she could only imagine what would happen when she was under his thumb completely as his wife.

But then she saw the look on Albus’ face and she knew that she couldn’t. She couldn’t let down Albus, even if Snape was the rudest man alive. She needed to be there for Harry. This was _all_ for Harry.

With that thought in her mind, Hermione took a deep breath before rushing out of the office to find the despised Potions Professor. She was surprised to see that he was in the corridor waiting for her when she finally rushed out.  

“Don’t. Dawdle.”

With that he had spun on his boot heel and was striding away from her once more. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he was headed out of the castle. Hermione followed quickly behind him, her shoes clicking gently against the stone floor.  

Within moments they were outside and the air bit her cheeks immediately. She regretted not bringing her cloak, but she also didn’t want to slow down to cast a warming spell. She didn’t want to do anything that would send Snape off on her. She continued to follow the silent Snape to the edge of the grounds before he came to a sudden halt. He seemed to be searching the treeline and Hermione watched in interest as the man slowly reached up to part the leaves with his wand.

She stepped closer to see what he was looking for and found it was an innocuous thing; an acorn that seemed slightly paler than the rest. He plucked it quickly, holding it between them and giving her an expectant look.  When she didn’t immediately act, he huffed an irritated snort through his large nostrils.

“It’s a portkey, Miss Granger.”

Hermione immediately acted, gripping the acorn with her left hand. She felt her cheeks redden at the faux pas. Snape’s fingertip was surprisingly warm against her own. 

“ _Portus.”_

A hooking pull at the back of her navel caused Hermione to gasp aloud and slam her eyes shut. She never got used to the feeling of traveling via portkey. When her eyes opened they were standing in an unfamiliar darkened street.

The buildings were unmarked and yet Snape moved down the cobblestone street with ease of familiarity.  Hermione hurriedly made her way to catch up with him.

“Where are we?”

Snape glanced to his left, scanning the address before he pushed the creaking door open, leaving Hermione in the street by herself. Hermione was starting to realize that her questions would be forever ignored. Instead of huffing in anger she simply followed into the building.

Inside was a small, cramped office that held floor to ceiling bookshelves and an oversized desk in the middle of the room. On the desk were stacks of papers that reached the ceiling. Hermione’s eyes drew over to the far wall, jammed with framed credentials. The largest of which was dated almost a hundred years ago. 

_Agnes Spindle, Ceremony Official for Magical Marriages._

So that’s where Dumbledore had sent them, of course. An anonymous place to be married. 

“Why couldn’t Dumbledore marry us?” Hermione asked, surprised when Snape answered her without actually facing her.

“He lacks the magical credentials to make it legitimate. And without legitimacy of the bind, the entire sham is for naught,” Snape turned then to give the wall behind Hermione a cursory look. “And we need to make it seem as if the marriage was my idea, not Dumbledore’s.”

  
Hermione wanted to ask further questions, but suddenly there was the sound of clacking from behind the door to their left. A short, elderly witch pushed open the door from the back room and ambled into the office. She wore large, oversized glasses, used an amber colored cane and glanced over to the duo standing in the center of the room.

“Oh you’re here,” was her sharp voice. She didn’t seem surprised at all. Leaning heavily on her cane, she made her way over to them. Hermione was amused to note that the witch barely made it to the man’s torso and therefore must be looking straight up Snape’s large nose.

“You’ve brought the rings, I assume?”

Snape reached into his robe pocket and wordlessly passed her the box. She opened it quickly and then nodding, took the rings out of the box. Hermione could see that they were very thin and plain and realized that she would soon be donning the smaller of the two. The old witch  looked expectantly to them.

“Shall we begin?”

Hermione took Snape’s lead and nodded along with him. The woman gave a small grunt of approval before wandering over to her desk. She gave a small lick to her forefinger before she began to dance her way through the stacks of paper on her desk. She was almost hidden behind them and Hermione marveled at how the woman knew exactly what papers she was searching for amidst the jumble.

When she found the parchment she had been searching for, she placed it on the far desk along with a bottle of ink and a dark blue feathered quill. Hermione idly wondered if the woman had been in Ravenclaw.

“Standing there,” Agnes insisted with a small cough as she glanced at Hermione and positioned her until she was standing across from a bored looking Snape. “Place your left hand in his.”

Hermione did as she was asked, her stomach fluttering as she felt Snape’s long fingers wrap around hers.  Hermione’s eyes trailed from their clasped hands up to the face of her Professor. His eyes were trained firmly on the small woman to Hermione’s right.  He seemed to be purposefully ignoring Hermione to the best of his abilities. Or perhaps he was just trying to pretend that this wasn’t all happening. She couldn’t say she blamed him.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls,” Agnes began with a voice of authority.

Hermione heard the small scoff from Snape before he attempted to cover it with a cough.  Agnes shot him a withering look before continuing.

“The binding of these souls is a practice as old as magic itself.  A commitment that you two are entering into willingly.”

At this she shot a glance at Hermione. Hermione realized what she was inferring and gave a hasty nod. Satisfied, Agnes nodded and continued on.

“You are promising yourselves to one another in word and action. From this day forward you belong to one another.”

Hermione felt herself falter a bit at these words. She was getting married and it wasn’t to Ron. This entire experience would forever be soured. When she and Snape divorced and she had a chance to remarry, it would forever be a tainted affair. When she next heard these words it would forever be a reminder of this moment with a Professor she didn’t particularly like, promising him her fidelity and endless love.

She tuned out for the next bit of the ceremony, breaking from her reverie only when she heard Snape clear his throat expectantly and felt as he jiggled her fingertips with his. Hermione could see that Agnes was looking at her with a questioning brow and a ring in her outstretched hand.

“Miss Granger? I said place this band on Severus’ left ring finger and repeat after me; _I take Severus Tobias Snape as my husband , my partner and my eternal companion. I promise him my fidelity, my support, my trust and my love_.”

 _Tobias?_ That strange personal tidbit about Snape would be going into her memory bank.She realized the absurdity of standing in this room, hand-in-hand with Severus Snape, dressed in her school robes and pretending that these words meant anything.  Still she cleared her throat and glanced at Snape’s chin as she placed the ring on his finger and slowly slid it up.

“I take Severus Tobias Snape as my husband, my partner and my eternal companion.” Hermione saw as Snape blinked rapidly, the rest of his face still impassive. “I promise him my fidelity, my support, my trust and my love.”

Satisfied, Agnes looked from Hermione over to the tall, dour wizard at her left and held out a similar looking ring. He plucked it from her grip and placed it on the end of Hermione’s ring finger.

“Now Severus repeat after me; I take Hermione Jean Granger as my wife, my partner and my eternal companion. I promise her my fidelity, my support, my trust and my love _”_

Snape breathed in quickly, his eyes focused firmly on the wall behind Hermione’s head. When he spoke, he did in flat, quick tones. He could not have sounded less convicted if he had tried.

 _“_ I take Hermione Jean Granger as my wife, my partner and my eternal companion. I promise her my fidelity, my support, my trust and my love.”

 It was strange to hear Professor Snape say her full name. She had become accustomed to the tired way he said _Miss Granger._ However as he spoke, Hermione was surprised to feel a strange tingling on her ring finger.  She glanced down at it in surprise before Agnes drew her intention.

“With words you are committed and now it must be sealed with a kiss.”

Hermione hadn't had the time to panic at the thought of kissing Snape before his dark head came towards her. He brushed the corner of her mouth brusquely and pulled back, still not meeting her eyes.

At the soft contact of his mouth, Hermione felt her entire body fizzing with a strange sensation. Obviously it was the magic of the binding. She was surprised to feel it going through her so completely. It seemed to start and end from her ring finger. When she finally looked up to Snape she could see looked similarly disconcerted before clenching and stretching his left hand. He was obviously feeling it as well.

“The binding ceremony is complete. You are married. Congratulations.” Agnes shoved a large parchment under their noses. “Now both of you sign here and here.”

The two did as she asked and with a flourish she announced them married and that she was closed for the night. Hermione followed Snape wordlessly out into the night, her eyes on his tall frame in front of her.

She was married.

To Professor Snape.

She glanced at the delicate ring on her ring finger and felt a sudden flutter of panic.

“Sir the ring-“

“Is enchanted to be seen only by you and myself,” Snape replied from over his shoulder, obviously already having anticipated her inquiry. She felt relief at the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to explain her new jewelry acquisition to her family should she see them anytime soon.

Snape stopped at the end of the road, looking to the cemetery. He indicated that Hermione should follow him and she did so. They trudged in silence through the misty cemetery before stopping before a small unmarked grave, almost entirely covered in weeds. Snape bent down, placing his hand to the cool marble. Hermione did the same, tensing as he spoke next.  

“ _Portus_.”

***

When they reached his chambers moments later, the cold still pinking her cheeks, Hermione was surprised to notice that they went immediately down to his chambers. Panic swept her. Her wedding night was about to happen and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to run.

She was more than a little relieved when she saw Albus standing in front of Snape’s chambers, leaning tiredly against the wall. When he saw the two of them he perked up, looking expectantly to them.

"You're back."

“It’s done,” Snape said firmly. Albus nodded, a flash of ease flooding his gaze. He looked from one to the other as they stood there standing across from him. He looked so old and frail and… broken that Hermione felt her heart lurch.

“I thank you both for your sacrifice.” Albus went to say more, but Hermione had thrown her arms around the man’s neck and hugged him tightly. She couldn’t help but do it. She could feel his arms feebly come to hug her back in silent thanks as Hermione cried against his shoulder. 

“As heartwarming as all of this is, I feel it pertinent to point out that I teach in the morning.”

Hermione pulled back from Albus at Snape’s acidic words, wiping her eyes quickly. Albus’ own eyes were damp and he blinked the tears back quickly.  Snape was standing with his arms crossed, his features placid and his mouth set firmly.

“Of course,” Albus said with a quick nod. “I’ll speak with you both tomorrow.”

With that he had disappeared down the corridor, his walking quick but ginger. Hermione was suddenly affronted with the fact that Dumbledore was fallible. That he was older and that one day he would no longer exist. Then it was just she and Snape in the quiet corridor.

“I should go back to my rooms,” Hermione offered helpfully. “Goodnight, sir.”

She was about to leave when she felt Snape’s hand around her wrist, holding her in place firmly.

“Not so fast,” he murmured darkly. “Have you forgotten we’re married, Miss Granger? Your place is here.”

Hermione’s eyes were wide. Albus had warned her that this would happen and yet the thought of actually staying down in the dank dungeons with Snape suddenly made her want to vomit.

Snape opened the door broadly, giving her a waiting look. Hermione swallowed thickly.

_You’re doing this for Harry. This is for Harry. You could help end the war. You could help bring down Voldemort. If all you have to do it stay with Snape a few hours a night surely that’s a small price to pay._

With a determined rise of her chin, Hermione brushed past Snape and into the office. He watched her as she moved into his space and felt immediately as his wards tingled at the intrusion. He followed her, locking the door behind them.

She was glancing around his office, taking in the specimens in jars, the bleakness of the space and the strange way she felt as if she were an intruding enemy.  The two stood in uneasy silence before Hermione had to break it.

“What will I tell Harry and Ron?”

“You’ll tell them nothing.”

“But I thought our marriage was to be made known to my friends and the staff?”

"That won't be necessary," Snape replied with a roll of his eyes. "The entirety of Hogwarts doesn't need to know of our marriage. The only ones who need know are Albus, yourself and me."

A sudden flash of relief coursed through her body at those words. She wouldn’t have to suffer through the additional humiliation of having the whispered mockery of her classmates.

Still, Hermione furrowed her brow, her mind immediately whirling to her conversation with Dumbledore. He had been very clear in his expectations and she was wary to go against what he said.

"But Dumbledore said-"

"I don't care what Dumbledore said," Snape snarled. He surprised her by how vitriolic he sounded. "I've done more than enough for that man. I am well afforded the luxury of not being humiliated every time I walk down the corridors of where I teach."

Hermione could well understand his desire to keep things hushed. "Won't _you know who_ be upset, though?"

"Claiming Harry Potter's closest friend as mine is enough for him.” She saw as revulsion crossed his features. “Publicity in our marriage isn't what he's after. It's your allegiance. If anything secrecy is preferred. Dumbledore only suggested transparency to avoid misplaced rumors."

Hermione nodded, following the tall form of Snape as he moved from his office into the next room.  He tapped his wand to the stone wall, muttering a small incantation before a door appeared. He pushed them open and strode through in one fluid motion.

_His private chambers._

Hermione took a moment to take it all in. The sparse furniture, the high bookshelves sinking with the weight of all his books.

The bed was narrow and pushed up against the wall. it was covered in dingy grey sheets and the lone pillow stop it looked old and uncomfortable.

Just big enough for one.

"Where will I be sleeping?" Her voice was pinched, anxious sounding. She looked around the small room and couldn't see where she would be sleeping tonight. She hoped she would be able to conjure more comfortable looking blankets.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "In the bed of course."

"With _you_?” She hadn't meant to sound so horrified, but the tension in her voice was evident.

"You will share my bed because that is what is expected of a wife, willing or not." Snape unbuttoned his outer robe, tossing it carelessly onto the nearby desk. Hermione’s eyes followed the motions of the robe, unable to meet the tall wizard’s eyes. 

"Surely that's not what _you_ want," Hermione squeaked.

"Of course not," Snape replied instantly with a face of pure disgust. "However if we were to be caught at any time, having you in a cot at the end of my bed would look suspicious would it not?"

"You could easily remove it if someone came in. Do you often have people barge in to your private quarters?" Hermione asked, her panic evident. "I mean what are the odds-"

"I've never been married to someone the Dark Lord deems a tool for advancement. I can only assume that I'll be under close scrutiny and subsequently you will as well." He was gritting his teeth so hard she wondered if he would have any teeth left at the end of their conversation. “That means memories of you sleeping at the end of my bed would be suspicious.”

 

At this firm pronouncement, Hermione fell silent, suddenly aware of what was about to happen. She was going to have to sleep with him. Regularly.

 

"Could you make it bigger at least?" Hermione asked gently, rubbing her upper arms to combat the chill. "With some warmer sheets perhaps? It's quite cold down here."

 

For a moment he looked as if he were going to fight her on this. Then he glanced over at his bed and seemed to catch her point. With a raise of his wand and a murmured spell the bed had doubled in size. The sheets were a crisp white and Hermione noted that the bed was now covered in two thick duvets.

"Thank you."

"I am an insomniac," he offered by means of reply. "I'll rarely be here. I don't care how big or small it is."

Hermione felt a flutter of relief go through her but it wasn't long before it was replaced with something cold and churning her insides.

"And tonight sir?"

He glanced at her but didn't bother answering. He instead fixed with with an inscrutable gaze that had her immediately flustered.

"Is the marriage... What i mean to say is, I'm not familiar with wizarding customs regarding marriage. You see in muggle society-"

"Spit it out, Miss Granger."

"I-Intercourse sir," she sputtered, turning so red in the face she felt her bodily temperature rise. "Do we-"

"Consummation with you is _not_ required," Snape interrupted, mercifully stopping her from humiliating herself further.

Hermione blanched at his bluntness. But a part of her wanted to weep with relief. It was frightening enough being alone with him. The realization that she might have had to be intimate with him had frightened her.

"Now cease your infernal chattering and leave me be," he hissed. With that he'd left for his office and Hermione slumped to the floor in silent gratitude.

After a few moments of collecting her thoughts she realized she was actually inside his chambers. And she needed to sleep. It was nearly midnight and she had a full class schedule to face in the morning. She had no pyjamas and she didn’t dare ask Snape if she could retrieve some. She would simply sleep here and shower in her old rooms in the morning. She would have more energy to fight him then.

She needed to sleep in that horrid bed. She kept looking at it and felt her stomach flipping uneasily. Deciding that time was quickly moving on she took off her cardigan, tights and shoes, placing them on a chair near the bed. The entire space was unfamiliar and she had no book to read to sleep. She rocked back on her heels a moment before she glanced over to the large bookshelves that covered the chambers.

She was delighted to see how the shelves fairly sagged with the weight of all his books. She drew over to them absently, her eyes roving the titles until it fell on a small brown tome shoved between two outdated Potions textbooks.

_The Trouble with Magic._

“I’ve never read this one before,” she murmured to herself before she took it down from the shelf. It was dusty and she gently blew on it, wiping away the collected dust.

She cracked the book open, her eyes scanning the aged paper. It was old, according to its appendix. Over a thousand years old. She turned the first page delicately, not wanting to rip it.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

He was standing behind her like some hideous Monster from a story book. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was looking down that hooked nose of his at her. She dropped the book with a small yelp of surprise at his sudden appearance. 

Even though she felt quite neutral about Professor Snape as she always had, having spent so much time with him in the last two hours she was starting to understand where Harry was coming from. Not that she’d ever tell her friend that. Professor Snape was rude and cutting and unpleasant. Even when she tried to be amiable he seemed determined to snipe at her.

"I'm sorry sir, I only wanted to find something from your collection to help me sleep," Hermione said in a small voice, feeling very much like she had when she'd been verbally maligned by him during a potions class. She felt caught red-handed and that she'd somehow disappointed him.  

"You'll do no such thing.” His thumb was pressing furiously into the pad of his ring finger. “I will not touch whatever items you bring here, I demand the same courtesy."

She nodded and as a student doing her best to please her teacher, she clamored into the bed quickly, pulling down the nightgown that had ridden up her thighs. She felt his eyes on her the entire time, and she pulled the duvet over her bare legs as quickly as she could manage. When she was sat in bed, he held out a small vial to her.

"Take this."

"What is it?"

"Sleeping draught."

Hermione pondered a moment before plucking it from his outstretched fingertips. Uncorking the vial she tipped the contents into her mouth and handed him back the empty vial. Drawing his gaze from her, he moved stealthily from the foot of the bed and pulled on a new cloak from his wardrobe. Without another word he had strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.

When it was apparent that he wasn't coming back anytime soon, Hermione allowed herself to take a large such of relief. The bed creaked as she shuffled to the far side of the bed against the wall. If he did return to bed she didn’t want him to have to inch over her to do so.

The thought made her skin crawl.

Hermione lay in the darkness, her hands clasped atop her sternum. Her chest rose rhythmically, slowly and steadily. Her mind was a million miles away and she couldn't help but wonder what on earth she’d been thinking. What had Dumbledore been thinking? Could they really put up this farce of a marriage? Could she survive being Severus Snape’s wife?

She adjusted her hands and felt a small pinch along her wedding ring hand. She lifted her hand up to see the thin band, dim in the darkness. A continual reminder that her life in many ways was on hold. With that realization in mind she allowed herself a small muffled cry into her pillow before sleep took hold completely.


End file.
